by Sharon Sala
“The plumber came by to get a look at what he’ll be replacing, plus what he’ll need to add. He wanted to make sure he had all of the supplies on hand to get the job finished in a timely fashion.”
Bowie nodded. “Good. So, bright and early tomorrow, we’re going be putting in headers as soon as they arrive, then taking down studs and reframing. You guys have a good evening. Get some rest. Both those headers are monsters. It will take all seven of us to get them in.”
They loaded up and left, while Bowie took a walk across the new porch deck and into the house. He went through the rooms, making sure all the windows were down and locked and the back door was locked as well, then walked to the front door. He paused in the doorway, thinking he heard someone saying his name, but when he turned around there was no one there.
The evening sun coming through the west windows lit up the dust motes hanging in the air, turning them into glitter. The light pattern on the floor was disappearing with the setting sun.
He stood within the silence, thinking about the happy years he’d lived here, innocent of the tragedy that had brought him into this world. He was almost ten when his mother told him about what had happened to her, but that his arrival in her life had been what healed her and made her life whole. She’d given him all the confidence he needed to grow up without a father in his life, and Ella and his gran had reinforced the belief he had in himself.
He thought about the journal she’d left behind and the phrase wish he hadn’t been born, and standing here, he suddenly got what she’d meant.
His birth had made him a target. And the attack that drove them away from Blessings had nearly killed him. That’s what she meant. She’d loved him so much that she couldn’t give him up, and then it had nearly gotten him killed.
“Sorry I doubted you, Mom. I miss you. Wish you were here.”
Then he walked out, locked the door, and headed home. He was driving down Main Street when his phone suddenly signaled a text, and then a second, and then a third. He pulled over to the curb to read them and then burst out laughing.
This is Gran. I sent this by myself.
Mama nearly drove me to drink. Brag on the damn text when you see her.
It’s me saying Hello, and thank you. It’s my first phone. I feel like a teenager but with no one to call, so you’re it. Come home hungry.
He laughed. “I might have just created a three-headed monster.” Then his belly growled. “And it appears I am coming home hungry. For you, Dark Eyes, I’ll eat anything you cook.”
He backed away from the curb and headed home.
* * *
Rowan was wearing the same old shorts and big T-shirt, standing barefoot at the stove, stirring gravy.
The oven timer went off.
“Ella, come check the roast. See if it’s done, please.”
Ella opened the oven door for a peek. “It looks done to me and smells wonderful. Where are those pot holders?”
“The little drawer to my right,” Rowan said and stepped aside, still stirring as Ella got out the pork roast and set it on a wooden cutting board they were using as a hot pad to let the juices set before they cut it.
Pearl was watching the evening news in Bowie’s recliner, with her feet up and a glass of sweet tea in her hand.
All three of them heard Bowie’s car.
“He’s home!” Pearl crowed. “I wonder if he got my text?”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Lord, I hope so.”
Pearl sniffed. “Don’t judge. I grew up when the phone was huge and hanging on a wall and you had to crank it to make it work, and everyone on the line had a different ring.”
Rowan hid a grin. This afternoon had been an experience, all of them trying to figure out the new phones with Ella as their teacher. She was pretty sure they’d both tried Ella’s patience to the limit.
And then the front door opened and Bowie came inside, bringing a blast of hot air and immediately dwarfing the space with his larger-than-life persona.
The women were momentarily speechless. The haircut turned him into someone else—a cosmopolitan mover and shaker, not the builder of other people’s mansions.
“Something smells good!” he said and smiled at Rowan.
“Pork roast. You have time to shower first,” she said, and then added, “Nice haircut.”
“It feels better,” he said, then hugged Ella and gave his gran a kiss on the cheek. “You guys are great to come home to. I got all the texts. Way to go, girls! I won’t be long,” he said and headed for the shower.
Pearl was watching the evening news and weather, and turned up the volume as the weatherman came on.
“Look at that,” she said. “We’re going to get thunderstorms tonight. We don’t really need the rain, but since when does the weather give us what we need on command?”
Rowan turned the fire off under the gravy, set it aside, and moved closer to the television. The weather map was a maze of different colors. Rain, strong winds, lots of lightning predicted with the storm, and possible flooding in low areas.
She shuddered. This would be the first really big thunderstorm since the hurricane and subsequent flood.
“Is the trailer park in a low area?” she asked.
“No more than any other part of town,” Ella said, and then saw the fear in Rowan’s eyes. “Honey, it will be okay. It’s not a hurricane. They’re not even predicting tornadoes or hail with this. I’ve lived here all my life, and the town never once flooded before Hurricane Fanny. We’re safe.”
Rowan nodded, then heard the water go off in the shower and knew Bowie would be out soon.
“I guess we’d better finish up supper,” she said, and went back to the little kitchen island where she and Ella began assembling a tossed salad.
Bowie was out less than five minutes later. Pearl began filling him in on the approaching weather.
“There’s a big thunderstorm coming. Is everything watertight?” she asked.
“The house is fine, Gran. The roof is solid. The old windows are still there, so nothing is open to the elements, and everything is locked up.”
Pearl nodded, then held out her hand. “Help me up, honey. My lower back is giving me fits today.”
Bowie frowned. “Is there anything you need? Do you have something to take that would alleviate the pain?”
“No, I’m out. Do you have anything? Just over-the-counter stuff?”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s in the bedroom you’ve been sleeping in. I’ll get the bottle for you, then you can keep it where you want.”
Ella called out from the kitchen. “Supper’s ready!”
“Be right there,” Bowie said. “I’m getting Gran some pain meds.”
Ella frowned. “Mama, you didn’t tell me you were hurting today.”
Pearl shrugged. “I hurt every day, Daughter. No need to complain about it.”
Bowie came back with two kinds of pain pills. “I don’t know which you’d prefer, but keep both of them handy for yourself.”
Pearl shook out a couple from one of the bottles, then carried them to the table. As soon as she sat down, Rowan appeared with a small glass of water.
“Thank you, darling,” Pearl said, and downed the pain pills and handed the glass back to Rowan.
The comfort of being here was beyond explanation. Pearl had always imagined home as her sanctuary—until the flood. She still had dreams about the water coming into the house and the horror of knowing they couldn’t stop it. They’d evacuated to one of the churches that was on higher ground, and even then her car had floated right out of the parking lot below it. After that had been the nursing home, which for her had always seemed like the last stop before heaven.
Life as she’d known it was over, and then Bowie came back all full of it, so strong and happy, and gave her reason to care about living again. And now, there
was the simple act of seeing her daughter and grandson together—and knowing because she’d been born, so too had they. It was an affirmation of life coming full circle.
And there was Rowan. She already felt like the gift they’d been given. But if Rowan and Bowie did become the couple Pearl hoped they would be, Rowan was the final piece of the circle. The woman who would bear the next generation.
Chapter 12
The first roll of distant thunder sounded in the middle of supper. They all heard it, and for a moment talk ceased. Then the conversation shifted to their house. Thanks to Bowie, it was safe now, and Bowie’s motor home was so heavy that strong winds didn’t faze it.
Rowan listened to them talk with her heart in her throat. The panic she was feeling was real, and she desperately needed to think about something else. She caught Bowie watching her, saw the look of concern in his eyes, and smiled, hoping to shift his focus.
“Remember there’s leftover peach cobbler for dessert, which I reheated earlier to freshen the crust,” she said.
The mention of food did what she wanted. Pearl began talking about Bowie getting into the desserts she used to bake, even before the meals were eaten.
Bowie rolled his eyes. “If I’ve heard this once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. Rowan…let me cut to the chase and save Gran the misery of telling it again. I ate the middles out of the pies and tunneled bites out of Gran’s coconut cakes and covered up the crime by stuffing more coconut in the holes to hide the deed. But it only lasted until the cakes were cut, at which point the pile of coconut fell away, leaving a great big-ass hole at the bottom of at least two slices.”
Rowan grinned.
“Oh, and don’t forget the embarrassed look on Billie’s face the day the preacher had dinner with us after church. Being the guest, he was served the first piece of dessert, and only by chance Mama cut right into the spot you’d tried to hide. When Billie saw it, we all knew you’d done it. She gave you such a look,” Ella said.
Rowan laughed imagining the sight. “What were you thinking?”
“Thinking about that cake, I guess,” he said.
She laughed, and for a few precious minutes, the panic was gone.
They finished the meal and were dishing up dessert when it thundered again, and much closer. Rowan took a deep breath and kept scooping cobbler into bowls.
Ella was adding the ice cream, and Bowie had gotten up from the table to take a call. He came back just as his bowl was set at his place.
“I already know how good this is,” he said. “It’s the perfect end to such a great meal.”
Rowan took a quick bite of ice cream from the top, just as a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby.
“I used to think that sound was the sky breaking,” she said, and scooped up a bite of cobbler, focusing on the taste of sugar and peaches.
“It does sound like something breaking!” Pearl said. “I swear, I learn something new every day.”
“Yes, like that phone,” Ella said.
Pearl frowned. “Don’t remind me. I figured out texts and phone calls, but I still don’t know where FaceTiming is on the thing, and I have to know how to do that to keep up with Bowie’s travels.”
“I’ll help you, Gran. I can show you later, before you go to bed, and then we’ll practice tomorrow when I’m at work by you FaceTiming me at your house. How’s that?” Bowie said.
Pearl grinned. “Yes. That’s good. I can do that.”
They heard the rain beginning to fall as it peppered both the top of the motor home and the west windows.
“Well, it’s finally here. Maybe it will have blown over by bedtime,” Ella said.
“I hope so,” Rowan added, and got up to refill their glasses of tea.
“No more for me,” Pearl said. “I don’t want to wet the bed.”
Bowie laughed.
“Mama! For the love of God…really?” Ella muttered.
Rowan giggled as she moved on around the table.
“How about you, BowieMan?” she asked.
Bowie liked the nickname. “I’ll take whatever you’re handing out,” he said, and laughed when her cheeks turned pink.
Ella frowned at him. “You’re no better than Mama. You’re both outrageous.”
For the time being, the thunderstorm played second fiddle to the laughter, and that was all Rowan needed.
* * *
Unfortunately, the storm had stalled out in the area. Bowie spent a little over an hour helping Pearl with the phone, and by the time everyone was in bed, thunder was still rumbling and lightning was popping and cracking. Everyone was asleep but Rowan, and when the night-lights flickered, her stomach knotted.
She knew Bowie was asleep from the way he was lying—flat on his back, with one arm flung over his head and the other on top of the covers over his chest.
She rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position, until exhaustion claimed her and she finally fell asleep.
The sound of the wind and thunder outside turned into the roar of floodwater in her dream, and the intermittent crack of lightning became the sounds of wood on the barn giving way to the water’s force. When she rolled over onto her belly in her sleep, the sheet beneath her turned into the hay-strewn floor of the barn loft.
Rowan moaned. Daddy was gone. No one knew what had happened. No one would think to check on her. No one would ever know what had happened to them. The story of their life and death would be buried with them, and people would forget they had ever been born.
And into the dream she went.
The sun was gone, and with it went light. Rowan was belly down on the loft floor, afraid to move for fear she’d accidentally roll off into the rushing water below. She could feel the floor vibrating from the water moving through the structure.
Her fingers were cramping from hanging onto the hay door in the loft, but she was afraid to let go, for fear the barn would sway too far one way and dump her out into the roiling water of the black abyss below.
When something rammed against the outside of the barn with enough force that she heard wood breaking, she closed her eyes and began repeating the silent prayer she’d been saying for hours. Please God, please… Don’t let me die.
Suddenly, she heard a flapping sound from somewhere behind her, like the wings of a very large bird, then the stir of air above her. There was an earsplitting screech—the only warning she would get before something slammed into the back of her head.
Pain followed shock as she began to scream, and then kept on screaming because the creature was caught in her hair.
There was terror in the screams that broke the silence in the room. Bowie knew it was Rowan before he even opened his eyes. He was at her side in seconds, scooping her up into his arms, covers and all, just as Ella came flying out of the bedroom.
Rowan knew she was moving, and even though she saw Bowie as she opened her eyes, she was still caught up in the dream and couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.
“Is she okay? Was she dreaming again?” Ella asked.
“I think so,” Bowie said. “Turn on the lights.” He sat down on his bed with Rowan in his lap.
The tension in her muscles was intense. He could see her eyes moving from bed to chair to the walls, as if she was trying to find a familiar object on which to focus.
“Rowan, honey! You’re safe! You’re safe! Look at me!”
Light flooded the room. And in that instant, the barn was gone. Rowan looked down at the floor and saw only the dark hardwood, not the flood. She saw Bowie’s face, felt the warmth of his bare chest and the fierce grip with which he was holding her. She put her hand on his chest.
“Is this real or am I still dreaming?”
“It’s real. I’m real, and you’re in my arms,” he said.
“I’m going to make her some hot chocolate,” Ella sai
d.
Rowan saw Ella at the stove, then ran her hands up the back of her neck, searching for the small, healing scars, but when she looked at her hands there was no blood.
Bowie pulled her closer. “Talk to me, Rowan. What happened to you?”
“Water was in the house. Daddy sent me to the barn loft. I begged him to come with me, but he told me to run and he would be right behind me. He was too slow. By the time he came out, the water was deeper. He was halfway to the barn when it hit him chest high. He went under and didn’t come up.”
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Bowie said, and held her even tighter.
But once she’d begun talking about it, she couldn’t seem to stop. The horror of what she’d endured was finally coming out.
“I was flat on my stomach, holding onto the hay door, screaming for help. I cried for a long time, then the sun went down. It was so dark I couldn’t see anything—not even stars—but I could hear the water moving down below. The loft floor was vibrating from the power of the flow.” Then she looked up at Bowie. “I was just waiting for the barn to wash away, taking me with it.”
Ella appeared over Bowie’s shoulder, then offered the mug. Rowan took it, cradling the warm crockery within her hands as she took a small sip. The warmth and the sweetness slid down her throat and into her stomach, settling the panic.
“What happened to you there?” Bowie asked.
“I was too afraid to sleep and afraid to move away from the hay door in the dark, for fear I’d take a wrong step and fall out of it. So I didn’t move. I lay there for hours, until sometime toward morning. I thought I heard something behind me, and then there was the sound of flapping wings and a brief rush of air above my head. Before I could react, there was a piercing screech, and then something hit me hard in the back of my head. The pain was sudden and intense. All I could tell was that it was a big bird of some kind, and its talons had become tangled up in my hair. I was screaming and hitting at it, trying to make it fly away, and then all of a sudden it was gone, and I’d lost my sense of direction.”
